“No, only now after the Dark Gift—with these attacks, when I fuse with him as I would with a mortal victim. It’s the Dark Blood. It’s become the currency of memory, the vampiric blood. He wants me to know he has these memories of a time when I saw him and strengthened him with that vision even before I knew how to talk.”

Lestat had settled in the chair on the other side of the table, and in a split second I developed a positive superstition about him having his back to the hallway door.

I went to the door and closed it, and then, coming back, I unplugged the computer entirely, and I asked if we could rearrange the chairs. Lestat caught me as I reached out to do this.

“Be patient, Little Brother,” he said. “The creature’s pushed you right out of your mind.”

We sat down again, facing each other, Lestat with his back to the front of the house, and me with my back to my bedroom.

“He wants to be a Blood Hunter, don’t you see?” I said. “I’m terrified of him and what he can do.” I looked up at the gasolier to see if the electric bulbs were blinking. No. I looked at the computer to make sure that its screen was blank. Yes.

“There’s no way that he can become a Blood Hunter,” said Lestat calmly. “Stop shaking, Quinn. Look into my eyes. I’m here with you now. I’m here to help you, Little Brother! And he’s gone, and after the burning I don’t think he’s going to come back, not for a long while.”

“But can he feel physical pain?” I asked.

“Of course he can. He can feel blood and pleasure, can’t he?”

“I don’t know,” I rattled on. “Oh, I hope you’re right,” I said. I was almost about to cry. “Little Brother,” how I loved the words, how I cherished them, and how sweet it was, as sweet as Aunt Queen calling me forever Little Boy.

“Get a grip, Quinn,” Lestat said. “You’re sinking on me.” He clasped my hands. I could feel the hardness of his flesh. I had some hint of his strength. But he was gentle, and his skin felt silky and his eyes were totally kind.

“But the old tale in the Chronicles,” I said, “of the first vampires—of how they were humans until a spirit entered into them. What’s to stop it from happening again?”

“It’s never happened since, to my knowledge,” said Lestat, “and we’re speaking now of thousands of years ago, of a time before ancient Egypt. Many a Blood Hunter, as you call them, has seen spirits, and many a human as well. And how do we really know what happened in the beginning, except that we were told through tradition that it was a powerful spirit who entered its human host by many fatal wounds. You think your Goblin has the power or the cunning for such a perfect fusion?”